


♠ ♦ ♣ ♥ Case Files

by AngelicSentinel



Series: ♠ ♦ ♣ ♥ [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-02-19 18:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicSentinel/pseuds/AngelicSentinel
Summary: Solving life's little mysteries, one at a time.one-shots inthe suffering of foolsuniverse





	1. the case of christmas

Only a few months into living together and things have become surprisingly routine. Kaito and Shinichi spend most of the day apart; Kaito with his magic show and his filming and promoting and Shinichi with his cases as a private investigator, slowly building up a clientele. 

But Kaito will be the first to admit that Shinichi is acting a little, well, strange. First Shinichi had come home one day and measured the beat up old Honda he used for work, grumbling to himself as Kaito was dangling from the roof performing upkeep on one of the walls.

Kaito asked him about it as he descended, and that’s when he got secretive, refusing to answer, and it’s making Kaito suspicious. Very suspicious. Kaito had found a receipt for a rental truck that Shinichi had snatched from him, stuffing it into his pocket and muttering under his breath, ignoring Kaito’s questions as to what he needed it for.

So Shinichi needed to move something large, that much was obvious, but what?

…the things he owns?

Some part of him fears Shinichi is moving out on him. He’s kept an eye on Shinichi’s things, but he hasn’t packed a suitcase or anything. Nothing’s missing.

Kaito wonders, sometimes, and worries. He shouldn’t, especially since Shinichi wouldn’t have done that in front of him if he were trying to hide anything, but. Maybe he was doing it in front of him because he knew Kaito wouldn’t ask?

Kaito wakes each morning worried Shinichi will leave. Maybe he should have more faith in him, but all everyone has ever done is throw him away. 

But Kaito has little time to investigate these days, not with filming on top of his magic show. 

So he speaks to the director and his co-stars about rearranging the schedule just for that day, manages to wrap up filming a little early and heads home, sneaking into their sprawling mansion, just to see. 

Shinichi’s home…and he’s sitting at their craft table in front of a machine sewing lining on something white?

“Shinichi?” Kaito ventures, and Shinichi jerks, and the fabric goes crooked, bunching up and getting sewed all together.

“Kaito! I wasn’t expecting you home for a while. Is everything all right?” he asks, worried, standing up.

Kaito won’t be dissuaded. “Everything’s fine. What are you doing?”

“Picking up another hobby,” Shinichi says, deflecting.

“Uh-huh,” Kaito says with a raised eyebrow. Something in his heart eases. Crafting something is hardly nefarious. And then, a little more kindly, “Do you need a little help?”

“Help would be nice,” Shinichi says, his voice small.

Kaito raises the foot, cuts the thread on the notch on the back of it, then grabs the seam ripper and leans against the table next to Shinichi, working the stitches out with a deft hand. It’s a skill he’s worked hard on. It’s not like the Kid could go to any old tailor to make alterations for fit, movement, and Kaitou Kid needs full range of motion for his tricks and acrobatics. He’d depended on Jii for a long time, but those days are beyond him, now.

“So, these dimensions are rather peculiar,” Kaito says, leading. “As is the shape.” Shinichi doesn’t say anything, so Kaito continues. “It almost looks like you’re trying to make a copy of my cape?” Kaito doesn’t know why. They’re built similarly enough that even Kaito’s bespoke suits fit him just fine. And his training as Kid is going well, Shinichi picking up the legerdemain like it’s nothing.

So what’s this all about?

Shinichi looks away. “Something like that,” he says.

“But I’m curious. Isn’t it a little long? You’d trip all over yourself with a cape like that.” It’s huge. Something clicks into place. Shinichi did need to move something big. Something that needed a cape. But he’s still lost as to what it could be. A statue of Kid? Nah.

Shinichi finally meets his eyes, brows furrowed.

“And you know, what’s mine is yours. You know you can wear my clothes anytime.” He follows that with a wicked grin, but Shinichi doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even blush. That’s when Kaito knows something’s wrong.

“Okay, okay,” Kaito says. “I’ll leave the mysteries to the detectives, yeah?”

“It’s just frustrating. You make this look easy,” Shinichi says.

“Mm. You have to start somewhere,” Kaito says. “It’s good work for a beginner.”

“This is going to be the cooking thing all over again,” Shinichi says.

“Your problem with that is you keep getting distracted. You can cook just fine.” Shinichi just tended to get lost in thought as he cooked, with predictable results.

“There are better things I could be doing with that time.”

And thus, the five blackened skillets they’d gone through in their time together. But Kaito politely refrains from mentioning them.

Instead, he leans over Shinichi, reaching around, pressing against him, guiding his hands with arms on either side. Kaito doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of being close to him. Working together, it doesn’t take long for them to finish a passable version of Kaito’s cape. It’s not something he would recommend wearing, but Shinichi seems pleased enough by it, and that’s good enough for Kaito.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Kaito says.

“Yeah. Thanks, Kaito,” he says, brushing his lips against him in a distracted kiss.

Kaito isn’t any closer to solving the mystery, but that fact doesn’t really bother him anymore. He wasn’t made for investigating, anyway.

-

Shinichi shows up the next day right as filming is ending in a red bowtie and a deep blue dinner jacket, standing by his white Rolls-Royce Phantom V Kaito affectionately refers to as Oyaji, surprising Kaito.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, confused.

“It’s Christmas Eve?” Shinichi says.

Kaito blinks. “Oh it is, isn’t it? I didn’t realize.” Though he should have. Things have been quite festive recently, come to think of it, and he knew it was around, but he hadn’t realized it was so close. No wonder the director had let them off so easily. He’d wondered why there was no filming tomorrow. That’s right. Christmas Day is a big holiday here, and most other shows will be completely shut down.  Not his, but it had never been an object of concern for him. The house would be filled as usual, even on such a date, because he was one of the only performances showing.

“Am I dressed for this?” Kaito says, looking down at his casual suit.

“You’re fine,” Shinichi says.

He opens the door for him, and drives him through Paradise where they’re filming and down the Strip. Kaito already has an idea where this is going as he looks up at the tower in the distance, and sure enough, Shinichi travels to the northernmost part of the Strip, stopping beyond it at the  _Stratosphere_.

They head into the tower, to the Top of the World restaurant. The revolving restaurant brings back memories of Ms. Hopper and her rekindled love for magic.

He hadn’t understood her jadedness then. Childish naïveté. Magic was a wonderful thing, but they were all fools for believing in the power of illusion.

Speaking of, Shinichi was near ready to begin performing himself. So strange. Shinichi was giving Kaito himself back, piece by piece. He was finding his love for the craft again, teaching him. Kaito’s reviews were already talking about the increasing strength of his performances.

Shinichi had been right. And in a shocking twist of events, had wound up doing for him what Kaito had done for Ms. Hopper.

The lights are dim, and surprisingly the place isn’t full. Tomorrow probably would be, but Christmas Eve here isn’t what it is for couples in Japan. Even still, he’s been so busy he’d forgotten all about it. For so many years, it’s been just another day to him. He doesn’t even have a present for Shinichi, and that sends a surge of panic racing through him.

What’s he going to do for a gift? Nothing he can come up with could top the evening out Shinichi has prepared for him. So much thought and care. Kaito is learning something new about him every day, and considering their vows, Kaito should have known that Shinichi is very much a romantic.

Shinichi hadn’t forgotten, and by his conversation with the server, this evening had been reserved well in advance with fine wine and decent food.

“So is this what you’ve been so secretive about?” Kaito asks him somewhere in the middle of the second course. "A surprise dinner?"

“Secretive?” Shinichi says blankly, and Kaito doesn’t believe that for a minute.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Kaito says with a look.

“Well, kind of?” he says, scratching his cheek. “Can you wait a little while longer, then?”

Kaito smiles softly. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Shinichi sits up, blushes, and looks away towards the city lights. It really is a fantastic view. The view over the city is pretty nice, too.

“So how does it feel to be on Top of the World?” Shinichi asks, and Kaito can’t help it; he laughs at the pun.

“I have you," he winks at Shinichi. "The best person,” Kaito says. “What more could I want?”

“I have a few ideas,” Shinichi says.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Shinichi says with the Kid-like manic grin he’s been practicing.

That gives Kaito an idea. Shinichi’s not quite ready to graduate the Kaitou Kid crash course, but yes. Almost. It’s an awfully good idea. Kaito is proud of himself for thinking of it.

They walk off the wine and the dessert, then head home. The closer they get, though, the more Shinichi fidgets behind the wheel. Kaito doesn’t have to be a detective to deduce his nervousness, or that their home is the cause.

Kaito hasn’t been home since about six this morning, so anything might be there. The thought is exciting.

As they step into the foyer, Kaito is not disappointed. Sitting in the middle of the floor is a gigantic white stuffed bear complete with top hat, monocle, suit, and cape.

The length of the cape is just perfect for the bear. It’s taller and wider than Kaito is. Kaito could sleep on it like a bed.

Shinichi must have seen it and thought of Kaito. Then he worked hard to make a bear that probably only passably resembled Kaitou Kid look like Kid, making the cape by hand (well, with a little bit of Kaito’s help).

Not just the cape either. The waistcoat and the bow tie are probably prefabricated, but the matching jacket has been sewn by an unpracticed hand. The stitches are ragged, the fabric pulls the wrong direction in several places.

It’s beautiful.

It’s impractical and over the top and Kaito  _loves_ it. 

Kaito just stares at it for a long moment thinking about all the work that went into it, how Shinichi had found the time to do all this with his incredibly full schedule.

Shinichi fidgets, shifting from foot to foot.

“I know it’s stupid, and there’s really no use for it, and we really don’t have anywhere to put it, but I just thought you might—Are you crying?” Shinichi says with some disbelief.

“Crying would imply I’m actually shedding tears and I’m not,” Kaito says, eyes stinging and nose burning. But no tears actually fall. He’s kind of proud of himself for that. “They’re only welling up. I mean, it’s not like I have a husband that took me out to a special dinner or anything. Or spent what had to be hours sewing a suit and cape for a gigantic stuffed bear in order to give me a very thoughtful Christmas present. Or figured out the logistics of how to purchase one and get it home, then hide it from me for at least a month.”

“No, we wouldn’t want to think that,” Shinichi says.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Kaito blurts out, and then he winces. So much for the suave, debonair gentleman who always had it together and had a line for every occasion. If his fans could see him now, there would be a riot. Why was he always better in front of a camera or a crowd?

“Idiot. If I wanted anything from you, I would have asked. I just saw it while I was out, and thought it might be something you liked.”

“But there is this,” Kaito says, sweeping a cloth over him and dressing him in the new Kid suit. “You’re close to being proficient enough for a heist, so I thought I’d go ahead and make you a suit. What do you think?” he says, holding up a mirror.

“Whoa,” Shinichi says, touching his reflection. “It’s strange. I look **—”**

“Wonderful? Amazing? Fantastic?”

“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?” Shinichi asks.

Kaito shakes his finger. “Now, we’ve had this conversation about stroking my ego,” Kaito says.

“Do you really think I’m ready?” Shinichi asks.

“You know I wouldn’t say things I didn’t mean,” Kaito says. "I know you're ready. I just want to make sure you're ready for anything that might come up. Merry Christmas, Shinichi.”

Shinichi wraps his arms around Kaito, leaning in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Kaito.”

 


	2. the case of valentine

Shinichi’s curled up on the sofa with a sore throat, a stuffy head, and his tablet.  A particularly virulent strain of the flu has his head pounding and his entire body aching, and no amount of medicine seems to cut through it.

He had the sniffles yesterday and hadn't thought anything of it, just that the dry heat was aggravating his sinuses.

This morning he was fine; enough for him to stop by the office and pick up a missing persons request from a worried mother who'd gone to him after the police told her there was nothing they could do for her daughter, seeing as how it she was an adult and had been missing for only twelve hours.

Supposedly.

Someone else had written her texts and a social media post; she'd been gone a lot longer.

He'd found her just in time, tied up and locked in a trunk and suffering from severe dehydration, the car having been abandoned off road in the middle of the Mojave.

He didn't get people sometimes, how they could do such things to each other. Not that he didn't understand why on an intellectual level, because he did, he knew well the things that motivated people to murder, it was just—Shinichi felt things, all right, and strongly. Helplessness. Anger. Jealousy. Fear. Hate. Pain. But he could never tie someone up, stuff a gag in their mouth, and leave them like that to die. It was more than attempted murder, it was cruel.

And it makes him wonder. Whoever had done it had been good at hiding the evidence. Shinichi had hated looking into her eyes, the eyes of her mother, and telling them he didn't know who had done it. There just wasn't enough evidence.

It doesn't mean he isn't going to try. Technically, he has no business investigating it. The LVPD aren't too thrilled with a upstart foreigner “playing” detective, but Shinichi is honestly not too thrilled with Major Crimes at the moment either.

Because there's a pattern. The UNLV student isn't the first woman to be stranded in the desert. And pattern almost always means serial killer. Two, maybe, he's not sure yet. An accomplice, someone to drive the other car. And he hates it because if they are a serial killer, he might have to wait until they strike again and that's almost unbearable.

Some detail he's missed...

He coughs hard, then finds out the antiemetic he took doesn't work as well as it should as the nausea overwhelms him and he retches into a bucket placed beside the couch for just that purpose.

Gross. So gross.

He falls back to the sofa. He doesn't have time to be sick. He needs to be on location or looking at the evidence or something. The Captain at least listens to him in the way that Inspector Megure always did, even if he technically shouldn't.

The door opens, and Kaito comes barrelling in to the sitting room. “Oh, Shinichi~” he says, singing the syllables of his name. He's dressed in a nice suit, and he's at least attempted to tame his hair. He has a large bouquet of roses with him. “I hope you're ready for—”

Shinichi blinks, feeling like he's forgotten something. He knows he has all the necessary clues, but he can't quite put it together. It's not the roses, Kaito brings him roses all the time. But he normally wears white tie to work, and he's in dressed down in black tie today.

He coughs again. “Kaito,” he croaks in response, sitting up—or trying to, his stomach hurts from all the vomiting he's been doing, and he falls back before he can quite manage it, dizzy.

“Shinichi?” he says again, this time questioning, and it's all Shinichi can do to raise his arm over the back of the couch in acknowledgement.

Kaito sets the roses down on a side table, and then leans over the back, examining him. Shinichi knows what he sees. Shinichi’s eyes are bloodshot, and his skin is translucent, almost, his hair almost as tangled as Kaito’s own. His shirt’s a mess; the buttons are mismatched from where he'd had to take it off at the physician's, leaving the collar to push into his chin, and his crumpled slacks bunch at the legs. He just hasn’t felt up to fixing it, not when he can barely move as it is.

“Well, you look awful,” Kaito declares.

“Thanks, I hadn't noticed,” Shinichi says, picking at his shirt. “You look good.” And he does in his tailored black suit, splash of red in cummerbund and tie.

Shinichi, in grimy clothes with greasy unwashed hair, feels like trash in comparison.

“You misunderstand me. As devilishly handsome as you are, you looked healthy this morning,” Kaito accuses, perching on the back of the sofa, trailing his bare foot across Shinichi's leg in a comforting touch.

“Yeah, it came on quickly. Flu,” Shinchi says, and then he sneezes into his handkerchief, and it rocks the whole couch.

Kaito watches as Shinichi curls into himself, shivering, and he procures a blanket, slides down next to him and wraps it around him with one hand, texting with the other.

Then he leans over and kisses the corner of his mouth, and Shinichi jerks back, pushing him away. “Don't do that! Do you want to get sick, stupid?”

“I've had my flu shot,” Kaito says, pouting.

“That doesn't mean anything! So have I,” Shinichi says. “I don't have time for this. I need to be out doing legwork, and you can't get sick either, with your schedule.”

“Case that bad?” Kaito asks.

“Worse,” Shinichi says, and Kaito finds his hand, lacing their fingers together. He runs his thumb over Shinichi's gold sapphire band.

“I'm sorry,” he says quietly.

“It's nowhere near your fault. It’s just—people,” Shinichi says, bewildered. “I don't get it.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Kaito asks.

“No, I've been too busy. Didn't think I could keep anything down,” Shinichi says.

“That won't do,” Kaito says, and he tucks the blanket around him, kissing him again on the cheek. Shinichi thinks about scolding him again, and then realizes that he'll regret it once he gets sick, and that will be punishment enough.

Kaito stands, heading to the kitchen, and Shinichi hears the sound of shifting rice and running water, and by the location of his soft steps, he's near the rice cooker.

Is Kaito making okayu? Shinichi really doesn't feel like having that either, he's not that sick. “I've been keeping myself hydrated!” he calls.

“Not good enough!” Kaito calls back cheerily.

Shinichi hears the sound of a microwave, and then the sound of popping corn. Though by the metallic echoes, it sounds like he's popping it in a stock pot.

After a few minutes, Shinichi looks over at the sound of footsteps to see Kaito carrying a big mixing bowl of popcorn back to the room on a tray with some hot yuzu honey tea, by the smell.

Kaito sets it on the coffee table, and Shinichi notes with some amusement it's the pair of  mugs emblazoned with the caricatures of Sugarlock Holmes and Jam Moriartea. As their names suggest, Sugarlock is a deerstalker wearing sugar cube with a pipe, while Moriartea is a cup of jam tea with angry eyebrows.

Kaito takes the Moriartea mug for himself. Shinichi's sure that's why he bought the set of them, even though they were ostensibly a gift for Shinichi.

He's also found time to change into an old shirt of Shinichi's and some sweats. Shinichi squints, and he recognizes them as the clothes Kaito keeps squirreled away in the pantry. That was more impressive before Shinichi learned how he did it.

Shinichi keeps finding clothes everywhere. In the strangest of places.  **Nowhere** is safe. Not even his office. Or the diner that has become their diner.

“So, what's on tonight?” Kaito asks as he sits beside Shinichi, handing him the other mug of tea and cuddling into his side, uncaring about Shinichi's germs. He places a piece of popcorn in Shinichi’s mouth. It's matcha popcorn drizzled with chocolate. Huh. That’s a bit ritzier than Kaito usually prepares his snack fare. Shinichi’s nauseated, but it tastes great.

Shinichi wonders what the occasion is as Kaito turns on the television.

“Some old film,” Shinichi says, gesturing an arm at the black and white screen. He doesn't recognize it. He wraps an arm around Kaito and pulls him closer. He sips from his mug. The hot tea feels wonderful to his irritated throat.

Kaito hmms, and feeds him another piece of popcorn.

Shinichi doesn't feel like watching anything, really, but Kaito seems determined to have a movie night, so who is Shinichi to argue?

Kaito pokes at Shinichi's stomach, making him squirm and shift. “What was that for?” Shinichi asks as Kaito snuggles closer to him.

“For getting you to share the blanket,” Kaito says, and sure enough, he's wrapped it farther around himself. He's plastered against Shinichi's side, his warmth seeping down to Shinichi's bones, and it's the first time he's felt anywhere close to good all day.

“You're going to regret getting close, you know,” Shinichi says as Kaito eats a piece with the same hand he's been using to feed Shinichi.

“Haven't yet~” Kaito says.

And okay, the implication makes Shinichi blush, but he looks away and says, “Sure, you say that now, but just wait.”

“Even if I do get sick, I know you'll be right here with me,” Kaito says, squeezing his hand.

Shinichi's heart melts. He groans.

“What?” Kaito says.

“You're so corny. How are you even real?” Shinichi asks, right hand covering his face as his fevered blush deepens. He can’t help it.

“Hey! I'm trying to have a heartfelt moment here!” Kaito says, pouting again.

Shinichi throws a piece of popcorn at him. “Like I said,  _corny_ ,” Shinichi says.

“Oh, like you're any better,” Kaito says, picking it up and popping it into his mouth before flicking another piece at Shinichi.

He catches it with his mouth, and then stills, dizzy from the quick movement.

Kaito's phone dings. Shinichi glances over to see Kaito firing off a rapid series of texts with a lot of emojis.

“Aoko?” Shinichi asks.

Kaito shakes his head. “Miguel sent me a picture of them, don't they look adorable?”

Kaito’s jeweler friend and his wife are pressed together, the photo having been taken by a third party. They're both dressed to the nines. The caption underneath says, “Thank you for dinner <3”

“‘Thank you for dinner?’” Shinichi repeats, uncomprehending, then he jerks up, nearly spilling his hot tea all over himself. Sugarlock Holmes looks at him disapprovingly from his mug. Shinichi must be really out of it if he’s imagining the artwork on his cup judging him for how long it has taken him to figure it out. Kaito dressed outside of his work norms. The bouquet. The green tea and chocolate popcorn. The  _chocolate_ that Kaito had indirectly given him.

“It's Valentine's Day,” Shinichi says, and groans again, falling back against the couch, inner curve of his arm over his eyes. “Those reservations were originally for us, weren’t they?”

“...Maybe?” Kaito says.

Shinichi raises his head and narrows his eyes. He’s acting cagey. “What else are you hiding?”

“Don’t look out front?” Kaito says, hands up.

So of course Shinichi sets his mug down and stands, wobbling, stalking over to the front door and throwing it open. A giant red bow sits on top of a gleaming black tourer. “You bought me a Benz,” Shinichi says in disbelief. “A 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL. A  _gullwing_.” He closes the door and turns on his heel, rubbing at his temples. “Kaito. Stop buying me cars. The Phantom was enough.”

“It’s not American,” Kaito says, trying to defend himself. “And you bought me a giant stuffed bear!”

That’s his argument? “A bear is not even close to—” His head is spinning. He feels faint. “It’s not a competition.”

“You’re not going to faint on me, are you?” Kaito asks. His voice is flippant, but his brow is furrowed in worry, and he moves closer as if to catch him should he fall.

Shinichi steps out of his reach, lets out a jumbled vocalization of something, takes a deep breath, and then says, “...No. Do I even want to know how much it cost?” Low production numbers, sought out by a lot of collectors...Shinichi imagines it’s high.

Kaito shifts. “I had it checked before I let the money transfer. It’s authentic!” He looks a little pale, though. Anxious. Like he’s worried about Shinichi’s reaction.

It doesn’t answer Shinichi’s question, but he doesn’t want to think about it right now. “You don’t—” He takes another deep breath. “You don’t have to buy me, Kaito, or get me things out of obligation. I’m here to stay.”

“It's not obligation! You like classic cars, though. Old ones,” Kaito says, rambling. “And I—I just thought you might like it. And I like the way your eyes light up when you see them, and when we go driving together with the windows down, and how you talk about them. I can’t help you with your detective work, not really, not as I am now with people so aware of me, and in fact, I know my fame makes it worse, but I thought that this...this I could help with, you know? This I can do.”

Like the mansion and the premium office space and the Rolls-Royce weren’t enough, though Shinichi is sure Kaito bought him the Phantom solely because of the name. He knows that because Kaito also owns a Honda Shadow Phantom even though he prefers sports bikes over cruisers.

Shinichi takes a step forward, lets his head fall and thunk on Kaito’s shoulder. “Thank you. Idiot,” he mumbles, tired.

“Your idiot, though,” Kaito says, his arms coming up to embrace Shinichi.

“Yeah.” Shinichi says, closing the gap. A long pause, his head still down on Kaito’s shoulder. A fancy dinner to make up for forgetting about Christmas. “My idiot.”  Something grand and over-the-top for Shinichi because Shinichi had gotten Kaito something of the like.

Well, Shinichi would just show him on White Day.  Before that, though…

Shinichi pads over to the table at the entryway, pulling out a long, thin black box with a red ribbon.

“For, uh, today.”

“I thought you forgot?” Kaito asks.

“...No? I mean I forgot it was today, yeah, but I didn't forget forget. I had this made a while back,” Shinichi says. It isn't like there are set rules to this, or that either one of them is the “woman” in the relationship (they're both men, that's kind of the  _point_ ), so he'd been planning all along to give him something today, their first true Valentine’s Day together. It’s nice that Kaito thinks the same, really, and isn’t insecure about it either.

Kaito takes it, unties the ribbon, pulls it open. “It's pretty,” he says, running his finger over it. It's a moonstone cabochon pendant, the stone cradled by a pair of silver doves in flight. It's not on a chain but on a thick leather cord, and the adularescence makes it gleam in the late afternoon light. “Thank you, Shinichi. It's nice.”

Shinichi scratches his cheek. “Sorry for ruining your dinner plans,” Shinichi says for lack of anything better.

“If you really want to apologize, you can get better quickly,” Kaito says. “Which means lots of rest, so move it,” he says, tugging at him. “Come on, back to the sofa. Your dinner will be ready in an hour.”

“You’re being dangerously domestic,” Shinichi muses as he lets Kaito manhandle him.

“Nope!” Kaito beams. “My motivation is entirely self-serving. I can't have my Valentine Shinichi cuddles if my Shinichi isn't here to cuddle, now can I?” He tucks the blanket around him, retrieves Shinichi’s mug, tsks at the temperature, and goes to prepare him more tea.

But Shinichi is already feeling much better, smiling fondly at his back. Oh, he still needs to work on that case, his head still aches, the room’s still spinning, he’s still nauseous, and he’s sure even with his medicine it will be several days before he feels better, but it’s nice to have Kaito taking care of him like this. And when Kaito inevitably gets sick in a few days because he has no sense, Shinichi will gladly return the favor.

But for now, he lets Kaito fuss over him, and thinks about the marked changes since Kaito came back into his life—he’s fiercely glad that Kaito was there at the bar that night. Shinichi doesn’t think he can imagine a life without him anymore.

“What are you smiling about?” Kaito asks him, handing him another steaming mug as he sits beside him.

“Nothing,” Shinichi says, raising the cup to his lips to hide it.

“Looks like a lot of nothing,” Kaito says, picking up the remote and going to a streaming service.

“Yeah,” Shinichi says, pressing a kiss to Kaito’s temple. “That’s one way to put it.”


	3. the case of birthday (♠)

The moon is full, the desert vast and wide and open, and Kuroba Kaito is desperately, desperately in love.

He wakes with Shinichi in his arms, and for a moment—just for a moment—it’s too much.

Kaito is objectively a terrible person. He knows this. He is a liar. He is petty, and his tricks can go too far. He is covetous, he is greedy, he is selfish. He wants and so he takes. He holds too tightly to things that were never his in the first place. He hides it with charm, with glitz and glamour and distraction, but underneath it all, it is a projection on a screen.

A paltry magician’s trick, the mirrors perfectly angled to showcase the best parts of himself, the smoke designed to hide the sharp edges.

What his manager had said to him that day at Ran’s wedding was not wrong. He has his reasons—oh yes does he ever have his reasons—but it only explains his behavior. It doesn’t excuse it.

Kaito doesn’t do close. Because if people find out who he really is—no, when they find out who he really is—then it’s all over.

Shinichi...has stayed longer than Kaito ever thought possible.

And Kaito is helpless, and confused, because he _doesn’t understand why_.

Why is Shinichi still here?

Kaito’s hand drifts down to his collar, cabochon moonstone pendant with its silver doves warm from Shinichi’s chest, and he catches it with his palm, curling his fingers around it like he can somehow keep Shinichi with him by holding on to it.

Shinichi is sleeping peacefully, one arm slung over Kaito’s waist, the moonlight casting shadows on his face. Another strong wave of tenderness wells up inside Kaito, stealing his breath, and he wonders at this miracle, wonders what Shinichi could possibly see in a washed up old thief like him.

He loves him so much it hurts.

When he leaves, it will kill him.

Even if Shinichi is his husband now, it's still probably creepy to watch him him sleep, to feel him breathe by his side, to know that he is his, to want to keep him in his arms forever.

So reluctantly, he extracts himself from Shinichi's embrace, opens the double doors that lead out the balcony over the courtyard of their home, and rests against one of the columns that make up the colonnade, looking out into courtyard, unseeing.

The desert night is cool, but heat still radiates up from the ground, catching Kaito in a strange duality. The arid smell of dry dirt lingers in the air, mixed with the faint perfume of the young roses Kaito keeps in pots beside their room, out of the hot desert sun.

His eyes flicker to the stars, and to that terrible, lonely moon, hanging solitary in the deep of the void, surrounded by pinpricks of stars bleeding light like puncture wounds.

He can see the red rock of the mountains in the distance beyond their property, the lights of the foreign city they both call home, bright even from this distance.

He never thought he would be here.

And it's not that he's not grateful. He's just wondering how much time he has left. An eternity, and yet no time at all.

Each day with Shinichi stretches out into infinity, and Kaito is hopelessly, hopelessly lost in each impossible moment, greedy because he wants it to be like this forever.

Each day is a precious gift, and the longer Kaito spends with him, the worse it will be when he finally leaves.

Then it will be Kaito alone in this grand and empty mansion. Eh. He'll just sell it and move to Monaco.

“Kaito?” he hears, and it sort of makes him jump, a little.

He turns his head to find a vision of a man stepping out of the double doors “Shinichi? What are you doing up?” Kaito asks. He smiles, but he feels it wobble, and knows it's not convincing. Wow. He's really let himself slip.

“I could ask you the same question,” Shinichi says.

“Can't sleep,” Kaito says. “Thought I'd get some air.”

And now Shinichi looks worried. Great.

“Is there something I can do?” Shinichi asks.

“Not really,” Kaito says, and with growing horror, finds his eyes burning with unshed tears. He blinks rapidly, trying to force them back before Shinichi can see, but it's no use. He's a detective, and he can see right through Kaito when Kaito's having a _good_ day.

“Hey now,” Shinichi says, crossing the distance between them. His hand goes over Kaito's, and _oh,_ Kaito hadn't realized he'd been clutching the polished moonstone pendant with such a tight grip, but Shinichi gently pries his hand off it and links their fingers together. “What's wrong?”

His face is so earnest, so concerned that it actually does push Kaito past the point of tears. Kaito lets out a strangled sob, and buries his face in Shinichi’s shoulder.  

It’s too late to hide his breakdown, but Shinichi will just be able to tell anyway, so there’s little point in trying.  

Shinichi's arms come around him, and he pulls him close. “Hey, shh, it's alright Kaito, I'm here.” He rubs a strong hand up and down his spine, making soothing circles on his shoulders. “I've got you. I've got you,” he repeats.

For how long? Kaito wonders, and that just makes him cry harder, clinging to Shinichi like he's his lifeline. Which, he is.

“Kaito, what’s wrong? Please, let me help you.”

“I love you,” Kaito manages to gasp out against his skin. “I love you so, so much.” He's sick with embarrassment at his tears, and he's getting mucus all over Shinichi's bare shoulder, but they won't stop coming.

“I love you too,” Shinichi says, tightening his arms around him. “Please, Kaito, let me in.”

“I can't,” Kaito breathes. “It's too—I can't,” he repeats helplessly. Because Shinichi will leave eventually, and take all his light with him, and Kaito doesn't want to give him the idea before he has to.

Why did he let himself fall in love? Idiot Kaito. So stupid.

“Okay,” Shinichi murmurs, petting his hair before pressing a kiss to his head. “That's okay. Can I still stay here with you?”

Kaito stiffens—that’s the problem—but Shinichi keeps rubbing soft circles on the skin of his back, and Kaito can't find it in himself to care. He tightens his grip, and Shinichi takes that for affirmation.

He lets himself be vulnerable. He lets himself cry. He could never show this sort of weakness to anyone else, he never would. Shinichi doesn't tease him. He just anchors him, stays with him even though it's who-knows-when in the morning.

When his little fit of self-pitying subsides, Kaito pulls away because he needs to learn to live without this and says, “I didn't mean to wake you.”

He pulls away, but Shinichi doesn't let him go.

Shinichi smiles instead, rubbing at the tear tracks on Kaito's cheek. “You didn't, not really.”

Kaito blinks, so Shinichi continues, “The bed was cold. But I'm glad it woke me. I'd rather lose sleep than have you alone like this.”

“I'm not—” but that isn't true, is it? A vast, empty future stretching out before him like a desert. It's his future, and how can he not think of it?

Kaito _aches_ with that emptiness, and it's ridiculous because Shinichi’s right here, and Kaito should enjoy the time he has left. “I'm not,” he repeats, and then he gives up and says, “it's stupid.”

Shinichi sends him a measured look. “Not if it's affecting you like this,” Shinichi says, and then he holds him tighter.

“I'm a mess,” Kaito says miserably to his hair.

“Maybe,” Shinichi says, “but I don't care. So am I.”

“You're not,” Kaito argues.

“Remind me how we met again?” Shinichi says, and okay, that's fair.

Kaito says instead, “Don't you have to give pre-trial testimony tomorrow?”

“Today, but given how many times I've had to do it now, it's no big deal. They're all the same, anyway.”

“Shinichi—”

“Stop trying to push me away, Kaito.”

“I'm not!”

“You are! I'm not going to leave you alone. Deal with it.”

“What are you, five?”

“If I have to be, yes,” Shinichi says in a no nonsense tone. “It’s not like I haven’t been there twice,” he mutters afterward, and Kaito can’t help but let out a surprised laugh.

It makes Shinichi brighten and hold him tighter. Kaito's hand again falls to the moonstone pendant.

Though the thought still lingers in the back of his mind, haunting him, he feels better.

“It's your birthday,” Kaito says. “You should be asleep.”

“There's nothing I'd rather be doing,” Shinichi says stubbornly. Kaito knows that's not true as Shinichi's body betrays him by letting out a massive yawn.

“Shinichi…”

“You idiot. I love you. I don't care if I have to tell you that a hundred thousand times to make you believe it. A hundred billion,” Shinichi says. Then his eyes turn sly and hooded.  “Pay for a billboard. Or another primetime advertisement.”

“No need to go that far,” Kaito says, letting go of Shinichi to raise his hands in innocence.

“Changing your opinion so soon after White Day, huh? I thought you liked that,” Shinichi says with a gleam in his eye, and Kaito laughs again, pressing their foreheads together. Shinichi wears the moonstone ring engraved with tiny, delicate wings even to bed. It always warms Kaito’s heart to see it.

“You caught me,” he admits. He bites his lip. “Hey, Shinichi?”

“Yeah?”

He steps away from him, moving to the armoire and the clothes he has set for later today and pulls from his pocket a box wrapped in blue paper with glittering swirls. “Do you mind if I give this to you now? I was going to wait, but,” he trails off. “I think you should have it now.”

“If it helps,” Shinichi says and takes it, unwrapping it from end to end in a slow, deliberate manner, peeling the tape off gently. He sees the rectangular shape of the box and looks back at Kaito, eyebrows raised. A cool breeze brings the smell of roses as the lingering remnants of the hot day finally begin to fade.

It’s braided leather bracelet with custom charms interwoven in. A spade, a diamond shape, a clover, a heart, a magnifying glass, a dove, a deerstalker, a tobacco pipe, a revolver, a diamond gem, a monocle, a top hat, a domino mask. The magician's symbol of infinity.

Things that mean something to them both.

“Happy Birthday,” Kaito says quietly.

Shinichi runs his fingers over the embedded charms, tapping the infinity symbol. “Kaito?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I'm not going to leave you, right?”

He can't look at Shinichi’s face. Kaito doesn't answer, heading back inside the house to collapse on the lounge in front of the bed, suddenly tired.

Shinichi follows, sitting beside him, and Kaito puts his feet on his lap. They both look through the open doors at the pale light of the moon, the drapes blowing in the gentle breeze.

“Is this because your PR team is still after me for a public appearance? Because I would, you know, but my work—”

“—is easier when you're not recognized, I know.” Kaito says, leaning his head back against the arm, putting his arm over his eyes. “I didn't expect that film to blow up like it did.” He took the job out of spite, did his best out of professional pride, and it had come back to haunt him.

“You're an excellent actor,” Shinichi says. “I would have been surprised if it didn't, especially when they rewrote the script to include more of you.”

“I understand if it's too much,” Kaito says. “Your agency—”

“—suddenly has more anonymous investigators,” Shinichi says, waving it off. “I know it's not what you wanted your training to go towards, but the disguises are useful.” Shinichi trails his hand up Kaito's arm. “This is hardly new. I've been recognized by the public one way or another since I was sixteen. Even sooner if you count biopics and specials of my parents.”

“Not on this scale,” Kaito argues.

“I don't know about that. My dad has that Academy Award for best screenplay, remember?”

“Still,” Kaito says. It’s not exactly right. He's afraid Shinichi will leave because of something else.

But the great detective he is, he'd deduced that Shinichi leaving that was what Kaito was thinking about, even if he'd misunderstood the reasoning behind it.

“It's something we can manage together, Kaito. Don't shut me out.” He grasps Kaito's bare foot, presses between the bones on the top with his thumb, stroking firmly.

It feels nice, and Kaito lets out a happy sigh.

“It’s not that, anyway,” Kaito admits. He shifts so he can look at Shinichi's face. “I just don't understand how someone like you could love me,” Kaito admits. “I don't understand why you're still here.”

“Because I love you,” Shinichi says without hesitation, “and loving you isn't a hardship. Don't give me that look, it's _not.”_

“Not even when I wake you up in the middle of the night and cover you in snot?” Kaito asks, cheeky.

“Not even then,” Shinichi says, and it's cold honesty. “Do I need to go on about all the times I've been late for dinner or stood you up because of work, that time I was _convinced_ you were going to divorce me, my failed cooking attempts, that time you had to bail me out of jail—”

“I’m actually very proud of you for that one,” Kaito says.

Shinichi blushes, but continues. “My point is, we both have our flaws. Kaito, I'm not the most demonstrative of people, I know that, but I love you. I’m not going to leave you.” He switches to the other foot, then looks away. “Sometimes I wonder if your insistence that I will is just a convoluted way of saying you want to leave me.”

“No!” Kaito says, sitting up and launching himself on top of Shinichi who lets out a loud grunt and falls back as Kaito lands. “Never!” he says, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Shinichi lets out a breathless laugh, winded by the unexpected weight. He’s still clutching Kaito’s gift in his hand. “Then don’t be stupid. I’m not going anywhere. Just accept it as the truth.”

Kaito exhales, and somehow that releases all the tension in his frame, and he slumps boneless over his husband. “Okay,” he says.

Shinichi shifts, then puts a throw pillow under his neck for support before wrapping his arms around him.

“We’re both workaholics,” Kaito mumbles against his chest.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve missed dinner too, your argument is invalid.”

“I’m not so sure that’s how that works.”

“Shh, my logic is impeccable,” Kaito says.

“Of course,” Shinichi lies agreeably.

A deep comfortable silence hangs between them before Shinichi says, “If it really bothers you, I’ll make an appearance as myself for once.” Shinichi hadn’t, not since that first show. No one had caught on, mostly because neither of them had wanted them to. Two man cons were always easier to pull off.

“It doesn’t really bother me. Does it bother you?” Kaito says.

“No. But you’re the one that has to face all the speculation. We’ve spread so much misinformation.”

“It was good for your disguise training, though. And kind of fun,” Kaito offers.

“Yeah. Kind of funny though they all think I just have a similar name.”

“Thank rōmaji and my manager's misunderstanding about that.” Kaito starts to speak again, and then he hesitates. “Shinichi, about earlier, I—” he falters again.

“The whole point is we’re in this together,” Shinichi says. “Don’t—just don’t shut me out, okay? You don’t have to tell me everything, but let me be there for you.” He cups Kaito's face, rubbing his thumb against the sweep of his cheek over the dried remnants of his tears. “Let me love you through this. You're not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

He presses his lips to Kaito's in a soft, languid kiss. Kaito’s doubts feel so far away, now. He wonders how he even let himself get so worked up. The night brings its own illusions, its own shadowy beasts that dissolve into smoke as soon as they're touched.

Shinichi’s good at conquering them.

“Okay,” Kaito whispers, holding him closer, and he closes his eyes.

 


	4. the case of birthday (♣)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend it's 21/6, shall we?

The attraction is there from the beginning, Shinichi can’t deny that.

Well, maybe not the very beginning. Shinichi struggled coming to terms with himself for the longest time, and it masked the real start of it.

But close enough to the beginning, anyway.

And it’s there when they meet again, even through the rough haze of alcohol.

And it’s here now, as Kaito sits at Shinichi’s executive desk in his office, casually doodling on his legal pad as Shinichi finishes with his last client, escorting them to the door as he repeats the details for their benefit. Shinichi can't help but let his eyes wander. Breathtakingly beautiful, the way he's leaned over the edge of his desk, concentration deep set in his features.

The love, though.

That wasn't.

Even on that roof. He'd returned those words, but he hadn't meant them, not at the time.

He means them now.

It's impossible to say when that started.

Slowly, Shinichi does know that. He'd been gone from his side for a long time, finishing his affairs, applying for a visa, waiting for government approval, moving across the world.

Somehow that made it sweeter, seeing Kaito again waiting at the airport for him, hands twisting together as he fidgeted, looking as nervous as Shinichi felt. His expression had brightened upon seeing him, and Shinichi couldn't help but be charmed by him all over again.

They'd bought a mansion together for a song, some bankrupt tycoon’s long abandoned project, and Kaito had it finished, and then they'd built a new workshop for them both.

His client leaves, but Shinichi barely notices, caught as he is in watching his husband.

Husband. That word never gets old. Shinichi still has trouble believing it.

Kaito leans back in the chair, raising his arms above his head, showing a strip of stomach. His tee is sinfully tight, the words “young, willing, and eager” written on it in jagged red text.

“Ready?” Kaito asks.

“Huh?” Shinichi says, not really paying attention, his eyes still caught on that bit of bare skin, and Kaito repeats himself with a gentle laugh.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Shinichi says, and Kaito grins at him, linking their hands together.

Shinichi glances over at the desk, at the newspaper on top of it, and he holds Kaito's hand tighter, stepping out into the open streets, gripping him with white knuckles.

-

Domesticity.

It feels so strange at first after so long being on his own.

The feeling of someone moving with him. Just having someone _there,_ even if they are engaged in their own interests, makes an enormous difference.

Finishing their home was the first thing they did together as a married couple. And it was awkward at first, two virtual strangers sharing such an intimate space, but soon they slotted together and settled into a rhythm.

They split chores based on preferences. Shinichi never cooks, Kaito never does dishes. Shinichi finds landscaping tedious. Kaito loves gardening. They both hate laundry and switch off. They are both tidy people; it still takes both of them a half day to clean the house every few weeks. They don't hire a housekeeper by mutual unspoken agreement. (The hidden room is meant to stay hidden, after all, and it is better not to chance it.)

It is much more space than they need, but Shinichi is used to empty rooms, and Kaito has the money, and he said they needed it for Shinichi's family and friends.

(Shinichi had wondered about Kaito's, but kept quiet. It didn't stop him from correcting it to “their” family, though. Because it is, now. Even if Kaito still hasn’t realized it yet.)

Sometimes Kaito tinkers in his workshop, while Shinichi works from his office. They'd converted the third master suite to a library of sorts, and that's where Shinichi does his work.

Sometimes Shinichi goes and joins him when it gets to be too much (A growing stack of case files on the desk, papers scattered to the floor, another headline: “Couple Found Dead in Desert.” Humans will still find ways to do awful things to one another, no matter where they are, and say whatever else about Kid, he made his fans smile. It helps.)

Sometimes, when their schedule permits it, they sit together in the big family room and relax with something mindless on the television, Shinichi usually with a book. Sometimes they curl into each other there with the promise of more sometimes.

When it hits Shinichi, it’s not a grand declaration. It doesn’t happen at exactly the right moment. It’s not like there’s fireworks, or sweeping music, or choral backing. He’s already said the words, and they’re just words.

Just a typical day, nothing special about it at all. Shinichi is exhausted from a tense two week homicide investigation, and Kaito from a day filled with performances and meetings and press.

But Kaito sneezes and Shinichi stops, watches him for a long moment without blinking as he shakes like a small dog after. Watches him wrinkle his nose, rub it, and brush some little flyaways out of his face, then turn towards Shinichi, tilting his head when he catches him staring, questioning without words.

Shinichi's heart stutters, clenches in his chest. It feels like it's swelling, like it's going to burst out of his chest at any moment.

The moment is one of a thousand, a hundred thousand similar moments they've had since they started living together. It could be any number of them.

But it is at this exact moment Shinichi realizes, _Yes_. _I love him._

Shinichi is still staring. “Hmm?” Kaito asks, blinking, a little tired, a lot out of it. He always seems tired. “Shinichi?”

Shinichi leans in, brushes some more stray pieces of hair out of Kaito’s face. His hair is getting a little long. He presses a soft kiss against Kaito's lips.

“I love you,” he says, hoping his sincerity bleeds through his words. It's the first time he's said the words since that night on the casino's roof.

Kaito lights up; Shinichi doesn't know a better way to describe it. His eyes brighten and he straightens, and he reaches up to cradle Shinichi's jaw in his hand. “You really mean it,” he breathes, eyes sparkling.

“I do,” Shinichi says, and he leans in for another kiss.

-

This city grates on Shinichi like salt in an open wound sometimes.

This place, for all his growing familiarity with it, is alien, and it has many things that Shinichi doesn't like. Far too many things. He'd underestimated just how difficult it would be to be submerged in the language, the culture, how different it would be from just visiting. Each minor incident magnified by the duration of his stay.

A constant litany of _wrong wrong wrong_ scraping against him until he's rubbed raw and bleeding.

It's not the worst city Shinichi has ever been to. It's not the best, but it's not the worst. Organized crime runs some of the casinos, there’s a few gangs, prostitution, the corruption that’s in every city. The homicide rate is lower than one might expect, but Shinichi isn’t all that used to dealing with the excess of guns.

He thinks of a gunman firing automatic rounds into a thick crowd from above and keeps a firm grip on Kaito's hand, feeling sick with disquiet.

Kaito for his own part, seems aware of his unease, rubbing his thumb over the back of Shinichi’s hand.

The handholding in public is new. Kisses in abandoned hotel corridors aside, neither one of them is much for public displays of affection. It might be cultural, it might be who they are as people. Shinichi prefers to keep private things private.

But even in a city like this, a city with just over half a million people but millions more tourists, a city of sin where vices are a commodity, things are still spread, true or not, and so far, Kaito's born the brunt of many of their choices.

So Shinichi holds his hand, thumbing over the golden band, part reassurance of his choices, part pride in them. An act of bravery, maybe. An act of rebellion, certainly. It is a statement. A quiet one, but a statement nevertheless.

These days, Shinichi doesn't want for much. He has a job that lets him freely help people in need. He has a home. A partner. A husband. Documents that make it all official, the ability to share their lives together and have that be honored, for all it's still fragile. It means something more than he can say, than he knows how to explain, even to himself. Something he had taken for granted before making the promise of forever with Kaito.

It makes everything worth it.

He wouldn't have had this, had he stayed behind in his old life, not like this, and Shinichi had promised to stay by his side.

He isn't in the habit of breaking his promises.

-

“You've been quiet all day,” Kaito says as they eat in their private booth, nudging his leg with the tip of his canvas shoes.

Shinichi hmms an assent. “Thinking about tonight,” he says.

Kaito tenses. “If you don't want to do it, that's fine.” He thinks he means it, but Shinichi knows he doesn't.

Kaito as a person is every bit as tricky as his heists—Shinichi thrives on the challenge. But much like them, he is just as easily disarmed with the right knowledge. In this case, reassurance.

“I do,” Shinichi says. “Very much so.”

Kaito blushes. “Ah,” he says.

Shinichi would have never been so frank with his emotions, once. But he is no longer a child with a child's insecurity, and their conversation about communication had resonated with him. He knows that had been his biggest mistake with Ran.

They share their truths with one another, as shifting as they may be.

It's strange, this peace he has with Kaito's lessons, the ease with which he has adapted to learning the trade of the thief, the pleasure he's had learning from a skilled illusionist. Out of everything here, it's what feels like home most of all (other than Kaito, of course.) He's come so far, learned so much in such a short amount of time, and it's all thanks to the man sitting in front of him.

Kaitō Kid is almost ready to take to the stage again.

Much like Shinichi will be taking to the stage tonight.

“Things are going to change,” Kaito says.

“Things are always changing,” Shinichi says. “We're ready for this.” He reaches out for Kaito’s hand.

Kaito runs his fingers over his knuckles, grasping gently, and nods. “We are.”

-

A murmur rustles through the crowd when Shinichi takes his spot at the reserved table, instead of lingering in various seats in disguise, or acting as one of Kaito's assistants or techs. Flashes from cameras, light from mobile phones recording him.

Shinichi doesn’t let his nerves show for all he has them.

He's far from the camera hungry teenager he used to be, and it feels strange to be back in the spotlight after so long. After the Black Organization, he was a simple police detective for the most part; he never had to deal with press conferences, just the occasional reporters, and he feels out of practice.

Kaito's disguise techniques are comforting too. He will still be able to help people—he has no doubt people will soon put the pieces together and his office will be flooded the next few weeks until people lose interest and their attention wanders off to the next big scandal.

The show begins, and watching Kaito is wonderful. It still takes his breath away every time he sees him perform. Shinichi has picked many of his illusions apart before with ease, but knowing the skills behind them, learning how to do them, gives him an intense appreciation of the ease and fluidity with which Kaito does them, one he hadn't had before.

“And for my next illusion, my husband Shinichi has agreed to be my assistant. Shinichi, wave to everyone!” Kaito says, gesturing to him with a dramatic sweep of his hand. Kaito's wedding band gleams in the light, sapphires sparkling. A spotlight follows him, and Shinichi doesn't have to fake a smile as he stands and bows to Kaito in acknowledgement before waving to the crowd. With the hand that has his wedding band, of course. Staged. The emotion is real—Shinichi loves Kaito like breathing and doesn’t care who knows it—but their movements have been refined and calculated to give the appearance that Kaito and Shinichi want.  

They will do this, but on their own terms.

It's not a murmur that sweeps through the room this time with their actions, but a dull roar.

Someone lets out a wolf whistle, then half the room starts clapping as Shinichi sits back down, light still on him. Kaito inclines his head, waits for the noise to fade, and with a look of intense concentration, lifts his hand.

Shinichi’s chair follows, and he yelps, and he makes sure to shoot Kaito a mock glare to show how ‘displeased’ he is with him. Kaito just laughs and gives a cheeky grin, lowering his chair by dropping his hand, and moves on with the show.  

When it is time for the grand finale, Kaito gestures for Shinichi to join him. Shinichi steps to the stage, grabs hold of Kaito’s outstretched hand.

“I just can't help myself. Having you here tonight makes me feel like I'm walking on air!” Kaito says.

The comment makes the house laugh as they both rise, laughter turning to amazement as Shinichi says, “That is a terrible pun.”

“It's why you love me,” Kaito replies.

The levitating chair is cleverly disguised lifts in a dark room, manipulating the audience’s attention with a light.

Even in the center of the illusion, held aloft by Kaito’s hand, Shinichi does not understand the mechanics of this particular levitation trick. His senses are telling him that what he’s doing is _real_. But it can’t be. The world doesn’t work that way. He doesn't ask Kaito to explain. If it is important, he will teach him in time. 

(Shinichi had met a self-professed witch once, not so long after he and Kaito married. Only once. In an odd little encounter outside a Tokyo konbini at three am; she'd been dressed in revealing red velvet and golden jewelry, covered by a purple hood. She'd passed by him on the street, did a double take, breathed in sharply, and said, “The sky wept that day, just as he did. Neither of you know what you've done. Be careful of the life you've left behind, phantom thief.” Shinichi’d played the fool then. He wonders, now.)

But their trip around the vast ballroom takes a scant few minutes, and before long they are stepping back on stage to great applause.

“Well, that was invigorating,” Kaito says, hands on his hips, when the applause dies down. “Before we close out tonight's show, Shinichi has something he'd like to say,” Kaito says and steps out of the spotlight.

The crowd stirs again.

“So I guess it's time for a few words from me,” Shinichi says as he takes a couple of steps left to the center of the stage.

“Do a magic trick!” someone in the crowd yells, interrupting him.

“All right, Kaito’s been teaching me some things, so maybe—” Shinichi attempts to make a rose appear by releasing a smoke pellet and pulling a rose out of his sleeve, but it gets caught on his cuff halfway out, and then the stem breaks, leaving him with the bottom half of a broken rose. He attempts to reach down to pick up the head of the red rose, but crushes it. The petals fall like rain to the stage floor. Shinichi hands the broken pieces to Kaito, grinning sheepishly. Kaito accepts them with real mirth; Shinichi is almost as good as he is, now. He thinks it’s funny to watch Shinichi fumble around.

He didn't laugh when Shinichi was still learning.

“Guess it’s not my skill set,” Shinichi says to low laughter, “but I can give you the magic of truth. There's been some unsavory rumors flying around so I thought I'd set the record straight. Something around here has to be, because I'm not.”

A few titters.

“So yes, I exist. No, I'm not a publicity stunt. Yes, we're actually married. We had a quiet ceremony with some friends. It's public record. Yes, Kudō Yūsaku is my father. Am I missing anything?” he turns to ask Kaito.

“Nothing important,” Kaito says.

“‘Nothing important,’ he says. It turns out there is still one more thing—” Shinichi gestures for one of Kaito's assistants, and they come out with a small box wrapped in playing card wrapping paper and hand it to him.

Kaito's eyes widen, “Shinichi!”

“I actually consider this very important, given you're working on your birthday,” Shinichi hands it over, another light landing on Kaito.

Kaito opens the paper carefully, and it turns out to be a hand carved wooden card box with stylized front trim and four small legs. Kaito attempts to pry it open, but it doesn't move.

He grins. “A puzzle box!” The crowd claps.

Kaito doesn't take long to figure it out—Shinichi didn't think he would, seeing as how it's simple, a twist on the front left leg, sliding the trim to the right, and pressing several decorative release buttons hidden in the intricate carving in the correct order of 1, 1, 3, 5, 8—he just thought that Kaito might appreciate the novelty.

Inside are two playing card decks Shinichi had custom made specifically for Kaito's cardistry. Kaito runs his hands over them, his expression soft.

“Happy birthday,” Shinichi says, so quietly the mic almost doesn't pick up on it.

“Thank you,” Kaito replies, touched.

His hands linger over them for a moment before another assistant takes it backstage. Kaito turns to the crowd. “And thank you all for being here tonight! Without an audience, there would be no show. And you were a fantastic one. Thank you all for listening to us! So take care, and I will see you next illusion!”

He and Shinichi bow, hands linked. Then Kaito throws some smoke, and Shinichi uses the distraction to slip backstage as his assistants come out and bow, Kaito doing his bombastic show finisher, introducing them all by name.

Shinichi retreats further, to Kaito's dressing room sitting down on the suede sofa and propping his feet up on the table.

His wait is not particularly long before Kaito comes in, shedding layers of himself as confidence shifts to weariness, shoulders slumping, handkerchief wiping sweat from his face. He's cradling Shinichi's gift. He places it on the vanity.

“How do you think it went?” Kaito asks him, sitting down next to him and drinking an entire bottle of water in less than a minute.

“Hard to say. We’ll find out in the next few days. Should quell the nasty speculation.”

“And lead to more,” Kaito says.

“Yeah, but it was always going to do that,” Shinichi says.

“True,” Kaito says. Then he stretches, joints creaking and popping. “I've always been devilishly handsome. I'm sure that's part of the draw.”

“You've never been marketed as a playboy, shh,” Shinichi says. “But I agree. It's definitely part of the draw.” He leans over to kiss him.

He does not hesitate. Shinichi knows the press of his lips, the softness of them. The delicate intimacy as they come together with the ease of long familiarity. He knows the lines of this body, this fascinated, gentle touch. “Most will understand. The rest don’t matter.”

“Always seeing true to the heart of things,” Kaito murmurs.

No, not always. Especially when it comes to Kaito. Some things Shinichi thinks he'll never understand. Kaito's conviction Shinichi will one day find him lacking and leave, for one.

“You’re the first thing in a long time that's made me happy,” Kaito says. ”And when they say things about you—” he looks down, fiddles with his fingernails. “I wish they could see you like I do.”

“The world likes to pry into things that are none of their business; they say things as if they have any right to who we are and how we live, but I freely made the decision to live with that when I chose you,” Shinichi runs his fingers through Kaito’s hair, “when we chose to be open about it. They’re just words,” he says. “Ignore them.”

“Happiness is a matter of choice, not chance?” Kaito asks, leaning into his touch.

“Exactly. You saved me,” Shinichi says. “More than once. You keep saving me.” Shinichi doesn’t think Kaito understands just how much Shinichi has come to depend on his exceptional wit, his quiet presence, his laughter to fill the endless days. Their conversations, from discussions of the finer points of law to high fashion to geeking out with Shinichi over the newest detective stories, even if Kaito doesn’t really care for them.

It is Kaito that leans in for a kiss this time, pulling him close.

“I have another gift for you,” Shinichi says, whispering against his ear.

Kaito shivers. “Oh?”

“Yes. But it's the kind that should probably wait until we’re at home,” Shinichi says, ghosting his fingers across Kaito's chest before standing up and looking meaningly towards the door.

“...I see,” Kaito says with a thick swallow.

He hurriedly gathers his things, and they leave, Shinichi pausing only a moment to turn off the light and lock the door.

  



End file.
